Saturday, December 29, 2018

One year. 365 days of grief. Hard to believe we've made it that long without you. I still expect you to be driving your truck home from school.

I feel weird today, like sad, but also some relief. Like it's going to be okay because we've come this far and are doing okay, some days even well. I feel sad knowing it's going to be a lot more years till I see you. Part of me wants to come home today to be with you and God but the other part of me needs to stay here to be with the boys, family and friends.

I chose joy as my 2019 word because I feel that it was missing from a lot of this past year. I did feel peace a lot over 2018 and everyone says I'm strong so my 2017 word must have been appropriate too.

I want love and support today but I want it every day not because it's been a year since you got to go home. I know you're happier there than you could ever have been here but I hope a part of you misses us. I hope you hesitated a teeny bit when God came for you. I hope He told you it would all be okay.

Thank you for being an amazing friend first, then husband and finally a dad. You taught us all so much and continue to do so. I know you wouldn't want us to sit around and mourn for you but you also knew me well for 25 years and know that dates are in my brain and that today would be hard.

I think I've surprised you. I think we planned that we would have enough money for me to take time off but then I would go back to work eventually. I think I've done better than either of us thought. I do worry about money but shouldn't because you said it all up so that I can live the same lifestyle we had.

I know right now you're shaking your head at me for laying in bed in tears, the amount I spent on Christmas this year and the boys for not helping around the house like you taught them, but I also feel your love. I know you are here with us even though we don't see you or hear you, except on recordings. I know you're watching over us waiting for our purpose to be fulfilled.

I worry about others and if I'm there enough for them. I want to be supportive of others grief but it's like I have a measuring cup and I only have so much to give to grief and I give a huge majority of it to myself and then the boys and there's not much left to give anyone else after that but it bothers me sometimes. I know this is really hard for so many people, the 700 people that came to your funeral and the hundreds that didn't or couldn't. I know they're hurting too and I don't know how to help them. I don't know if I should stop by and see those locally, if I should text or call those away from here because I know everyone wants to know how I'm doing and take care of me too. My heart breaks thinking of your family and friends and your colleagues, members of the church in the community.

Keep watching over us. I can hear you say "Suck it up buttercup" and also that you're good. I'm so happy you're not in pain anymore and that you don't feel old like you did when you were here. I'm so happy you experienced the ultimate joy every day.

Sunday, December 2, 2018

Last night I went to a Garth Brooks tribute band concert. Ahead of time I was thinking of the different Garth Brooks songs that I remember from many years ago when that's what I listened to.

I didn't remember the song titled "If Tomorrow Never Comes". So the song starts and the tears start the same time. And while they're singing I realize that I did know. The song asks that if tomorrow never comes will she know how much I love her. And I do know how much Steve loved me. I know that he still loves me.

Then they play the song "The Dance". In this song he talks about how sometimes things happen and they are not good things, or fun things or things you want to happen, but in the end if you didn't have those things happen you would have missed the dance.

I wouldn't go back and change anything. I would still say yes to seeing "Fern Gully". I would still say yes when he proposed on a corner in the rain. I would still say yes to having three amazing boys. I would still say yes to all of these things and accept the 25 years we had together was meant to be. And even though grief is really hard, I accept it and I'm working through it everyday knowing that I got to enjoy the dance.

Background

In December of 2017 my husband suddenly stopped breathing and my world changed. I unexpectedly became a widow and a single parent to three amazing boys. This story is about how my faith has kept me going emotionally, how I dealt with the paperwork and finances, how I continued my teaching career and how I raised my children alone.

Past Posts

I am only an expert in my situation. I am not an undertaker, a pastor, a financial adviser, a medical professional or an insurance agent. You will need to do what is right for you and your situation when the time comes and it may not be what I did and that is okay! We each live our own story.